


Your Guardian Angel

by glow_in_the_dark



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Angels, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Guardian Angels, Hand Jobs, Johnlock - Freeform, Kid!Lock, M/M, Wings, angel!John, too cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glow_in_the_dark/pseuds/glow_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mummy?” “Yes, Sherlock?” “Do you believe in God?” “Yes, Sherlock.” “Angels too?” “Angels too.”</p><p>Sherlock prays for a Guardian Angel so he may have a friend for life who won't just walk out on him. Even though he doesn't believe in God. Will his prayers be answered, and if they are answered will he have proof of a higher power?</p><p>This is unbelievably cute, so if you are looking for fluff first then smut second, you have come to the right place X3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Lord...

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Твой ангел-хранитель](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740521) by [Military_Intelligence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Military_Intelligence/pseuds/Military_Intelligence), [opium_smoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opium_smoker/pseuds/opium_smoker), [raveness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raveness/pseuds/raveness)



> John and Sherlock are 5 in this chapter, Mycroft is around 10. 
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING ON WITH THE FIC!!!!!!  
> A/N: It should be noted that I don't belong to any religion and have no idea what I am talking about, lol. I personally hold the greatest respect for those put their faith in a higher power, that kind of devotion and belief towards something you cannot see, touch or hear is amazing in my books. I am a person who believes in evidence and things I can see, and as far as I am concerned "We come, We live, We go". I don't beleive in any form of afterlife, nor any higher power. Many times I have tried to understand religions, but they aren't really my thing. Each to their own.
> 
> So please, for the love of all things living and dead, don't start a religion war on this fic. It's very clear I know nothing about religion, and whilst I have done a little bit of research, I'm bound to get a whole lot wrong. I've made things up in this fic, but if you have found something that is especially worng, please do tell me so that I may fix it up. I want to offend as few people as possible lol. Just take it as the cute fluffy fic that it is, and don't read too seriously into anything, yeah?
> 
> ONWARDS!!!

“Mummy?”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Do you believe in God?”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“Angels too?”

“Angels too.”

“But there is no proof that they exist. How can you believe in something that you cannot see with your own eyes? Something that might not even be real?”

“It’s called having faith, Sherlock. It’s a very hard thing to do and not everybody can have it. But those who believe tend to be more content with their lot in life, knowing that any struggles they face now will be met with peace once their time on Earth is finished.” Sherlock’s mother tucked a small five-year-old Sherlock nice and tight into bed, smoothing back inky curls with delicate fingers.

“And what if you don’t have faith? What difference does it make?”

“It makes very little difference at all. In the end, nobody can be sure if a divine power exists or not. Only souls that have passed know for sure, but they like to keep their secrets.”

“That’s very inconvenient of them for the scientific community.”

She giggled, an honest smile gracing her face. “I suppose it is. But always remember this, Sherlock. Man wasn’t meant to know everything. If man knew everything, then life would be very, very dull.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“Mummy?”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“What’s the difference between a Guardian Angel and a normal Angel?”

“Angels watch over us all, whereas Guardian Angels watch over one person in particular.”

“Why do they only watch over one?”

“Because sometimes some people need to be watched over 24/7, so they are guided on the right path. So an Angel devotes themselves to a single person to make sure they gain the most out of their time here on Earth.”

“That doesn’t sound very plausible, Mummy.”

“I suppose it doesn’t.” She giggled again. Sherlock always held the most interesting conversations.

“How do you get a Guardian Angel, Mummy?”

“You ask God for one, Sherlock. And if God thinks you need an Angel, he will assign one to you.”

“And how do you ask God to give up one of his Angels to watch over just one person?”

“By praying. I can show you how to do it if you like? Just in case somebody else asks you how to ask for a Guardian Angel.”

“Just in case somebody else asks me.”

She gave a small smile as her hands came together. “Place your hands like this, Sherlock. Then start with ‘Dear Lord…’, and always use your best manners.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

“Dear Lord…” Sherlock sat up in his bed, hands pressed firmly together. He was perched with his elbows on the window sill, big eyes looking out onto the starry sky. “I would like you to giv… I would like to ask you for one of your Angels. I don’t have any friends at school because all of the other kids think I’m weird because they say I’m a ‘know-it-all’ and a ‘show-off’ and a ‘freak’. I don’t know everything, I just know a lot for somebody my age. And I don’t want to know everything because Mummy said that knowing everything would make life dull, and I want my life to be exciting. And I don’t mean to show-off, I just want to get my point across all the time. And I am not a freak, no matter what Donavon and Anderson say. I would just ask you for a friend or two, but I know that not all friends last forever. I know this because Mycroft has had lots of friends but besides from Mike, not many of them stick around. So I am asking you for one of your Angels because if I had an Angel then they would always be with me for the rest of my life. If it’s not too much trouble, could you please spare an Angel that is very good at listening. This is very important because I have a lot to say and need an Angel that will listen to everything. My Angel would also have to be very interesting, I don’t want a boring one. Can you please make my Angel a boy? Girls are yucky and gross and mean and I would rather spend the rest of my life with an Angel that was a boy, not a girl. But the most important thing of all is that he needs a big ‘heart’. Not a big heart physically because that would cause health complications, but a big ‘heart’ in the emotionally sense. I’m not very good with emotions and Donavon said that I don’t have a ‘heart’ at all, so I need an Angel with a ‘heart’ big enough for the both of us.” Sherlock looked up at his ceiling, thinking over how to say his nest words. “I doubt very much that you are hearing this, Lord, because I do not think that you exist. But I promise that if you can give me one of your Angels then I won’t dismiss the idea that you exist entirely. For full proof I would need to see you face to face. But if you can give me one of your Angels then I will have a little bit of ‘faith’ in you like my Mummy does. But only a little bit. Thank you for listening, Lord.” Sherlock scanned the skies expectantly, but wasn’t surprised when he didn’t see an Angel come flying down from the sky. Closing his curtain, Sherlock got underneath his covers and pulled them up tight over his head. “It was worth a try.” He mumbled to himself, sleep taking over him swiftly.

\----------------------------------------------------

Sherlock was really starting to hate school. It was full of idiots who barely knew how to count to one hundred and struggled to spell the most simple of words. Mummy had promised him that he just had to do this complete first year of primary then the teachers would test him to see if he should skip any years. But for now, he was stuck with a bunch of snot-nosed idiots.

“All right class, today we have a new student joining us. His name is John and he’s from…” The teacher looked down at John, not knowing where the kid was from, only being told his name.

“Up North from here. I forget the name of the town though, it’s very long.” John smiled up to his teacher, his puffy jacket making the small child look very round.

“Everybody say hi to John.”

A chorus of five-year-olds sing-songed, “Hi~John.”

“Ok, John. Please go take a seat next to…” Scanning the room the only available seats where ones either side of Sherlock Holmes. “Next to Sherlock. Sherlock, be nice and make John feel welcome.”

Sherlock didn’t deign the lady with an answer.

John walked quickly over to where the teacher had told him to sit and smiled at Sherlock in a silent, warm greeting.

Sherlock frowned, not understanding the silent greeting, and instead face the front. He was a little miffed when John did the same, seemingly happy about just sitting next to Sherlock.

\----------------------------------------------------------

John, Sherlock had decided, was completely incompetent. It was like the kid had never held a pencil in his life before. “You’re holding too close to the end.” The youngest Holmes stated, as the class practiced their handwriting. 

“Sorry, what?” John looked up from his handwriting book, his letters very wobbly and barely legible. 

“Your pencil, you are holding it wrong.”

“Oh. How do I hold it then?” John turned big, warm blue eyes to Sherlock, waiting for the boys answer.

In response Sherlock just held his own pencil up, showing John where his fingers should go.

John held the pencil in the correct area, like Sherlock’s, and tried to write a few letters again. They were less wobbly this time and kind of looked like what they were meant to look like. His face lit up in excitement and he looked towards Sherlock like he had just figured out the meaning of life. “I did it!”

“…” Sherlock didn’t know how to answer. What person in their right mind would get so happy over being able to write semi-legible letters. Five or not, that was just ridiculous. John didn’t pay any heed to his silence and continued to write letters with more confidence. His fingers kept slipping down the pencil though, the boy having to readjust his digits in the process. Without a second thought, Sherlock dug into his pencil case and pulled out a small navy blue sponge cylinder. “Give me your pencil.”

John looked up at Sherlock, not impressed with the lack of ‘please’. “Ok.” He handed over his pencil and watched as the other boy pushed the pencil into the sponge cylinder before passing it back to him.

“Try it now.”

John held his pencil correctly and adjusted accordingly to the new and foreign feeling of sponge between his fingers. He wrote out some more letters and smiled broadly when his fingers not only didn’t slip down the pencil, but the lines and curves of his letters became less wiggly and wobbly. “Brilliant! Look, Sherlock, I can do it!” John held up his book and flashed the other boy his wiggly letters. A small mop of shaggy golden hair peeped over the top of the book, getting a look at his letters upside down, before smiling at Sherlock. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

“You were doing everything wrong so it was my job to at least show you how to do it right.” Sherlock wasn’t used to people his own age praising him.

“Well thank you. Without you I’d still be holding my pencil wrong. I hope you will help me from now on with other things too.” John placed his book back down on the table and began writing away happily; listening to all the advice Sherlock would give him on how to make the curves smoother and the lines straighter.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Morning tea arrived and the children were given a brief 20 minutes to stretch their legs and play around outside if they wished. It was at the end of Autumn just before Winter, so the sky was grey and the air crisp. Any child wanting to play outside had to put their puffy jackets on for fear of their little bodies freezing.

John turned to Sherlock expectantly.

“What?”

“Do you want to play outside?”

“I don’t want to play outside.”

“Then do you want to play inside?”

“I don’t want to play at all, John.”

“Ok.” John stood up only a little bit deterred before running off outside to play with the other children.

“Got yourself a friend there freak?” Sally Donavon walked over with an annoying kid Sherlock would only call ‘Anderson’ in tow.

“As you keep reminding me, Donavon, I don’t have any friends.” Sherlock reached behind him into his book bag to pull out one of the books he had borrowed from the classroom library. It was a pointless book and he didn’t care for the actual plot, but it was good practise for reading and retaining skills. 

“Don’t think that you can just act normal around the new kid and pretend that you’re not a freak so he will like you.”

“Yeah.” Anderson chimed in.

Sherlock knew without looking around the classroom that the teacher was nowhere within site. Most likely outside making sure nobody got too cold. “Go away, Donavon.”

“Or what? Gunna tell the teacher on me?”

“Yes.”

“Like she would listen to you. Even Miss knows that you’re a freak. She thinks you are weird because you learn things to quickly.”

“It’s not my fault the rest of the class learns things too slow.” Sherlock glared at Anderson before settling his gaze on Sally. “Some a little more slower than others.”

“Are you calling me dumb?”

“I never said that.”

“Yes you did, but you just said it in a way to confuse me.”

“It doesn’t take much.”

“You weird freak. Weirdo. Know-it-all. You…” Sally was cut off by a small boy bouncing over with a bunch of dead leaved in his hands.

“Sherlock, look! These leaves are so pretty!” John laid out all the dead leaves carefully on the table beside the book Sherlock was reading.

“Those leaves are dead, John.” Sherlock put his back to Sally and Anderson and focused all his attention on the new kid.

“Yeah, but they are still beautiful, look.” John pointed out to all the parts of the leaves that had been eaten away by decay except for the spines of the leaves. “See. All these liney bits of the leaves are very pretty.”

“Do you want to go see if we can find one that looks completely like that?” Sherlock pointed to the leaf John had found that was half made of exposed veins. 

“Really!?” John’s face lit up, wide eyes full of hope.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Sherlock placed his book back in his book bag and left the two bullies where they were standing. John waited patiently for him to pull on his puffy jacket before they went and rooted around in the dead leaves together.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a month since John had joined Sherlock’s primary school and the two had become almost inseparable. Whenever Sally or any of the other kids were mean or would pick on Sherlock, John would always be there to either take Sherlock away from the bullies to do something else, tell the bullies off, or tell the teacher that the other kids were being mean to Sherlock. Sherlock had never been happier.

However…

Over the past month, John had never removed his puffy jacket once. It was officially Winter now, with snow and everything, so the jacket was well excused when worn outside or early in the mornings. But the teacher would turn on the gas heaters in the classroom to warm the place up a bit, and still John would wear his puffy jacket. And whilst John would come over to Sherlock’s house after school sometimes, John had never taken Sherlock back to his own home. 

Time to figure out why.

“Do you ever take that jacket off, John?” Sherlock and John were sitting together at their table eating their separate lunches. John’s lunch was bigger than Sherlock’s, but the two would swap the contents of said lunches to benefit their own appetites. For example; John would give his biscuits to Sherlock in exchange for the other’s apple.

“I take it off when I get home.”

“Why do you wear it so much?”

“‘Cause I get cold easily.”

“Why don’t you take it off when you around at my house?”

“Because I’m usually cold when I’m at your house.

“Can I come round to your house today?”

“No, sorry. Father is busy working and doesn’t like it when others are in our home without him around.”

“Then he should be around more often.”

“It’s not as simple as that, Sherlock. Father is a very busy man and does a lot of very important work.”

“Then will you come round to my house today?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And will you take your jacket off?”

“If I get hot.”

“Will you get hot?”

“Probably not.”

“Hm…” 

He was going to need to try another method.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The Holmes family car waited outside the primary school with its driver standing outside in the cold. Upon seeing Sherlock and his new friend, He opened the back passengers door and let the small boys climb in. Sherlock’s elder brother, Mycroft, was already seated in the front seat. “You’re late, Sherly.”

“Don’t call me that, Mycroft. And it’s not my fault I’m late, Anderson had thrown my scarf up in a tree. It took a while to get it down.”

“And John is coming back with us again today?” Mycroft teased. “Got yourself a proper friend there, Sherly?”

“Shut it, Mycroft.”

“I’m not just his friend,” John interrupted the two brother’s bickering. “We’re best friends.” The smile he gave Sherlock was so wide and big that the youngest Holmes could see every one of John’s teeth.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The two young boys were sitting in Sherlock’s room on his large queen sized bed. Sherlock was reading the second Harry Potter book aloud to John. He didn’t really have any interest in the book, the idea that magic and wizards existed was just absurd after all. But John loved the Harry Potter series. John was too young to be able to read through the complicated words so Sherlock read it out to him, pausing to explain new words every time they came up. 

He had just finished the eleventh chapter when he put the book down and looked at John.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, big blue eyes staring intently at Sherlock.

“You’re hiding something under that jacket of yours.”

“Took you long enough to figure it out.” John laughed, flopping down on the bed so he lay on his back.

“I figured that out weeks ago. I just couldn’t figure out what you are hiding under there.”

“Hm…” John smiled at he stared up at Sherlock’s roof. The bedroom light was turned on, but when you flipped the second switch on tiny LED lights embedded in the roof would flicker away, each light placed in specific locations to replicate the constellations of stars in the sky. John had just stared up at the roof speechless when Sherlock had first shown him the starry lights.

“What are you hiding under there, John?”

“I’m not meant to tell or show you.”

“Says who?”

“Father.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too early for you to know.”

“To know what?”

“But in my personal opinion, I think it would be fine to show you.”

“Show me what!?” Sherlock practically yelled.

“We could always ask Father if I can show you now.” John tilted his head back until Sherlock was in his line of sight. “Would you ask Father if I can show you them with me? You wouldn’t have to say anything, I’ll do all the talking, but I think that if you are with me when I ask he would definitely say yes.”

“… Alright.”

“Perfect!” John sprung up from where he was laying, and looked happily at Sherlock. Go lock your bedroom door and turn on the stars, and turn off the normal light so we can see the stars better.”

“I thought we were going to see your Father?”

“I can’t take you to go see him.” John laughed like the very idea in itself was the funniest thing he had every heard. “But we can… call him.” 

“…” Without a word Sherlock stood up and locked his bedroom door, turning the normal light off as he flipped the switch for the LED stars. John’s face somehow got even happier when the stars twinkled away on his celiling, his hand outstretched for Sherlock to take. The youngest Holmes climbed up onto the bed and sat right beside John, mimicking the other boys’ posture by tucking his legs underneath him. 

“Right, now I know you’ve done this before, obviously, but place your hands together like this,” John placed his little hands delicately together in a prayer, watching intently as Sherlock did the same. “And whatever you do don’t part your hands, ‘cause Father will say no for sure if you do.”

Sherlock went to ask John what the hell he was on about, but John never gave him the chance to say a single word.

“Our Father who art in heaven, please hear my humble call.” John waited for to second before his face split into a massive grin. “Father! It’s so good to hear from you. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful Earth is! Oh, wait, yes you would, you created it.” John laughed to himself as he apparent listened to some silent words that Sherlock couldn’t hear. “I’m having such a great time down here. Yes. Yes I have. He’s brilliant! More than I could have ever hoped for. And so very smart! He’s practically a genius, and he’s only five! He can even read grown-up books like ‘Harry Potter’. So very clever. He’s perfect! And we are friends! Just like you said we would be. Yes. Yes he can! I couldn’t believe it! He’s actually here with me now. No, I haven’t told him anything yet. Or shown him. I would like to though, if it’s alright with you. Yes I understand. I know. But I think he could… He would never do anything like… Please give him a chance! If he reacts like you say he will I will personally take responsibility for everything. Yes, everything. I swear.” John waited for a while, listening as hard as he could, eyes squeezed shut tight, waiting for a silent answer. “Thank you so much, Father! You won’t regret this! I promise! A-men.” John smiled broadly at Sherlock expectantly.

“A-men…” Sherlock quickly spoke the ending of the prayer, and looked at John with inquisitive eyes.

“You think I’m mad.” John smiled.

“A bit, yes. But not any more than I think you always are.”

“Help me take it off.” John smiled, unzipping his jacket and throwing it to the floor. He proceeded to pull off his school uniform shirt as well, throwing it to where his jacket resided. John’s chest was covered in brown leather straps of various sizes, flat metal buckles holding all the straps in place. “I made it myself. Help me undo them all.” John grabbed Sherlock’s stunned hands and guided them to his chest, urging the other boy to start helping him. John’s hands worked excitedly over the buckles, undo them with practiced ease, Sherlock only getting to undo three of the fifteen. John sighed in relief as he slipped the offending leather off his shoulder and rolled his neck until a few pops were heard. “Please… please don’t be afraid.” A sudden trepidation entered John’s voice for the first time since meeting Sherlock.

“Why would I be af…” Sherlock didn’t get to finish his sentence out of pure shock.

Slowly, oh so very slowly, two white feathered wings unfolded themselves from behind John’s back. The kept stretching out for what seemed like infinity until each wing spread out two metres each way. Once fully stretched out, John brought them in a bit, so that they rested bent over he shoulder, the ends coming round to almost protect John. 

Sherlock’s jaw dropped.

“Impossible.” He gasped, looking at every individual like it was made of everything he didn’t believe in; like magic.

“I think ‘improbable’ is the more suited word here.” John gave a weak smile, his wings coming round a bit more to shield more of his body.

Sherlock just stared it the wings, before taking note of how uncomfortable his silence was making John. “It is alright if I… if I touch them? You know, make sure I’m not seeing things.”

“Of course.” John smiled, the tension slowly melting away fro his posture.

Sherlock shuffled forward in the bed until the front of his knees were resting against John’s. Very slowly, he reached a hand out until his fingers came into contact with the tip of one of the wings larger feathers. “It’s soft.”

“I should hope so. I try to take care of my wings.” John laughed.

“No, I mean it’s softer than regular bird feathers.” Sherlock brushed his fingertips over more of the wing, soaking in all the new textures. “Yet much stronger than regular bird feather, ridiculously strong.” Sherlock tried to gently bend the tip of a feather, eyes glue on John’s face to watch for any indication that he might be hurting the boy, but the feather wouldn’t budge.

“That’s because I’m not a bird, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Sherlock leant up on his knees, hands planted on John’s shoulders as he pulled the other forward a bit so he could get a look at where the wings connected to John’s body. “But then what are you?”

“You know what I am.” John’s amusement leaked through into his voice, making Sherlock frown.

“I want to hear you say it.”

John placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips and gently pulled the curious Holmes down until he was sitting back on his knees. Taking the other’s hands in his he smiled broadly. “I’m an Angel.”

“An Angel.” Sherlock said the words very disbelievingly.

“Well, a Guardian Angel to be exact. Your Guardian Angel.”

“You’re my Guardian Angel.” It wasn’t a question. More of a repeated fact. A very real mythical fact.

“Yup. Our good Father heard your prayer and instantly went looking through all of his Angels to find the one best suited for you. And he chose me! Father said I was the ‘perfect match for a boy who needed guidance more than anyone he had seen in a very long time if he was to be all that he needed to be’.”

“So God actually exists?” Sherlock blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Only if you believe him to.”

“It’s kind of hard not to believe now when I’ve got some proof within arm’s reach.” As if to prove his point, Sherlock brushed his fingers over the wings again.

John smiled and wrapped his wings around Sherlock. “Yet somehow I think unless you saw the Holy Father in person you wouldn’t be a complete believer.”

“As much proof as you are that God exists, there are too many unanswered questions and possibilities for this situation that could just as easily dismiss the evidence or at least raise doubt to it’s credibility.”

“Such as?” John asked.

“Well, your wings could be a form of mutated DNA resulting in some sort of bird DNA growth.”

“They could be. What else?”

“And then there’s the fact that if I just asked for a Guardian Angel and got one, doesn’t it mean that there are other people all over the world that should have Guardian Angels too? And If they had Angels, of their own, wouldn’t they have spoken out about it by now?”

“Currently, I am the only solid Angel on Earth right now. Others who ask for Angels merely ask for them so that they might have some guidance through a small portion of their lives until they make it back onto the right path chosen for them. Those people do get Angels on their own, but those Angels never show themselves, merely whisper in the ear of their charge when they deter off course in the form of a ‘conscience’. It has been many centuries since and Angel had actually taken on flesh and body to watch over a charge personally. But our Father saw that there was barely any room in your very busy mind for any outside voices, so made me a slid body to walk around with so I may guide you where you need to go in person. But now that you know what I truly am, you must swear to never tell anybody about who I really am. Because if you do then I will have to erase all your memories of me and leave Earth. People don’t respond well to situations like these.”

“… I understand. I promise not to ever tell anyone about you being and Angel.” Sherlock never wanted John to go away, ever. So he would keep this secret if it meant that his Angel would always be with him.

“That’s good. Because I want to stay here, with you. You’re my best friend after all.” John unwrapped his wings from around Sherlock until the sat folded neatly behind him once more.

“Hold up. If God is your Father, then where do you go home to after school? Where do you live and sleep?”

“I don’t have a house if that is what you are implying. I sleep on clouds, usually above your house so I can keep an eye on you at night to make sure you stay safe.”

“So you can fly then?”

“What? Of course not. My wings are far too small for that yet.”

“Then how do you get up to the clouds?”

“Angel’s can do a thing called ‘flitting’ before their wings grow big enough to support them properly. It’s hard to explain, but basically put, we can latch onto prayers to carry us up. Your mother prays every night, so I usually hold onto her prayers until I reach the clouds.”

“Impossible.”

“Improbable.” John corrected.

Sherlock thought for a bit before looking straight into John’s eyes very seriously. “You’ll be staying in my house from now on. You can sleep in my bed at night after you pretend to ‘go home’. I don’t want my Angel outside in the cold when he can be inside with me.”

“That’s very kind of you.” John smiled before a yawn stretched his mouth out. “Man I’m tired.”

“Me too.” Sherlock agreed, standing up from the bed and walking over to his chest of draws. He pulled out a clean pair of pyjamas for himself and pyjama pants for John. “I imagine it would be more comfortable for you to sleep without a top for your wings.”

“You are very perceptive.” John laughed and took the offered piece of clothing from Sherlock. Taking his socks and school pants off, John changed into the pyjama pants before climbing into bed, waiting for Sherlock to change and do the same.

Sherlock changed quickly, pulling his pyjama’s on as fast as he could, diving into bed, pulling John close.

John was lying on his right side, his right wing folded neatly behind him and his left wing spread out to cover himself and Sherlock. “To protect you.” John explained. “Nothing can pierce through Angel feathers.”

“Whose going to attack me in my sleep?”

“For my peace of mind, ok?”

“Ok.” Sherlock laughed. “I can’t believe I have my own Guardian Angel.” His eyes began slowly dropping shut, his gaze falling from John’s face and sliding down his neck and collar bones as a sudden fatigue swept over him. “I wonder… how big your… wings will… get…”

John smiled as he watched Sherlock fall into a deep sleep, his wings obviously plaguing the boys dreams. Being an Angel had its perks. We had certain… abilities, one of them being able to force people into deep sleeps when they were in very close proximity to another person. And this was about as close as things could get. Lifting Sherlock’s body up a bit, John slid his left wing under his body and Sherlock’s, making sure to cocoon every inch of the youngest Holmes in as much impenetrable wing as possible. Nothing was going to hurt his Sherlock if he had a say in the matter.


	2. Is Kissing a Sin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I say things like “third joint” and stuff about John's wings in this chapter but I don't expect everyone to just understand what I'm talking about lol. So if you google “Angel x men movie” and have a look at Angel's wings you'll be able to see what I'm talking about. The third joint is the one that connects the long outer outstretched part of the wing to the rest of the wing. I hope that makes sense lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I should also clear up John and Sherlock’s ages and a bit of background info. Sherlock is 17 here, having entered university at the age of 15 ‘cause he I smart like that, lol. But John at the human age of 17 is not as smart as Sherlock, so he had altered his biological and mental age by aging himself to keep up with Sherlock. In this chapter John is about 20/21. After their first year in primary, Sherlock was given the chance to advance forward two grades, but decided against it, wanting to be as close to John as possible, and knowing that if he advanced ahead, he wouldn’t have any friends. So John aged ‘naturally’ with Sherlock for 6 years. But once he got to intermediate Sherlock couldn’t stand the “stupidity” of those around him and skipped intermediate entirely, moving straight on to college. John, needing to be around Sherlock as much as he could, altered his age forward 2 years so that he could stay with Sherlock in college. So when Sherlock was 11, John was 13. John was more than happy to skip the years if it meant he could stay with Sherlock. The two didn’t really take the same classes in college, having different interests and all. Sherlock finished 5 intended years of college in 3 years. Sherlock went to Cambridge University when he was 15, he would have gone when he was 14 but no university would take him. John also joined Cambridge University, but aged an additional 2 years, so that he was 18 when he was accepted. Sherlock studies multiple courses at the same time, finishing each earlier than intended and dropping courses once they bore him. Sherlock has realised that he has been selfish in terms of making John skip years to remain with him. So as much as it bores him to stay at University after gaining all the qualifications that he wanted, he just keeps taking more courses to pass time until John has obtained his full Medical Degree. Age is meaningless to John because he isn’t born to Earth, he can alter his age as he pleases. But the one thing that doesn’t change when he alters his age is his wing span. His Angel wings will continue to grow at the pace the pace Sherlock does, not John. Sherlock knows none of this though and thinks that John has lost four years of his life for his sake, and believes that he is the blame for John’s stunted growth (being a short ass) because he made John skip all those years. The two are very touchy-feely because they are linked by the heavens above and their souls enjoy the close proximity. So before anything sexual ever happens, they love to be near each other because it puts them at ease. And now you are up to date, lol.

“Sherlock!”

The youngest Holmes sank a little further into his chair at the sound of his flat mate stomping around their small flat.

“Sherlock! Where the fuck is it?!”

Might it be noted that Angels, do indeed, swear. Like a sailor. Or at least his Angel did. 

“I swear to fucking G...” John stopped himself just in time before he committed blasphemy. “Where the fuck have you put my harness?!”

Sherlock kicked a bunch of leather straps under his bed, making sure it would be completely hidden from John's line of sight. Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, Sherlock sat down on his unmade bed, eyes fixed on the entrance to his room. 

“I have to go to school, Sherlock. And I can't do that, WITHOUT MY FUCKING HARNESS!”

And in three... two... one...

John burst through Sherlock's bedroom door, the metal handle crashing into the wall where plaster cracked under the brutal treatment. Sherlock predicted that two more violent openings and he would have a hole in his wall. But all thoughts of the condition of his bedroom wall were thrown out the window when he saw John in all his angered glory.

Pristine, white, feathered wings were flared out dangerously around John's shirtless torso. The position of the wings was perfect for both attack and defence; John could either furrow them in to protect his body or hurl them forward to knock the wind out of Sherlock. John's cheeks were flushed the slightest of pinks, his exertion in turning their flat upside down to find his harness evident. Sherlock wished that John's body would be covered in a thin film of sweat from his exertions, but apparently, Angels don't sweat. John wore a pair of faded blue denim jeans, the band of black briefs peeking out from the top.

All in all, Sherlock felt like screwing an Angel right now. 

Said Angel was wise enough to notice the tell-tale look in Sherlock's eyes. 

“No, Sherlock. Adultery is a sin.”

“I'm human. I'm meant to sin.”

“And I'm your Guardian Angel. Who needs to go to school so he can get his medical degree. But can't, because his fucking charge has hidden his fucking harness!” John looked around Sherlock's room quickly, trying to find the strips of leather that would hide his wings. Which was becoming increasingly difficult might he add, with how big they had grown in the past twelve years. They measured three metres wide each way. Sherlock had predicted that would need to grow to four and a half meters each way before John would be able to fly.

“One; I'm sure swearing is counted as some sort of sin, so you can't lecture me on sinning when you sin nearly once an hour everyday. And two; you no longer need that harness.” Sherlock slid forward to the edge of his bed and held out both of his hands so he could brush his fingertips along the silky feathers of John's wings. 

John yanked his wings back behind his body, knowing that whenever Sherlock showed him affection he melted like putty between the genius' fingers. “If I don't wear the harness then people will see my wings, Sherlock. Now please give it to me.”

“That harness is old and worn out and you're on the last holes of each of he straps because you've gotten so big.” Sherlock stood up from his bed and about half a meter away from John, smirking at the 6 inch height difference. “I wonder, do Angels mature at a slower pace to humans?”

“Shut up, Sherlock.” John grouched, his wings raising like heckles to make his form seem bigger and more intimidating. “Stop changing the subject and give me my harness.”

“No.” Walking over to his dresser, Sherlock pulled out a paper big with thin cardboard rope handles and held the bag out for John to take. “You're too big for that old thing.” 

John looked at the paper beg like it held either a bomb or a bible written directly by the hand of God. 

The bomb was more likely. 

But for some stupid reason he took the bag and opened it up. “What is this?” John asked as he carefully pulled out something made of very high quality black leather. 

“It's a new harness. I designed and made it, myself, to fit your torso and current wing span precisely for optimal comfort.” Sherlock watched John's shell shocked expression carefully for any signs of distaste. All he saw was honest surprise and curiosity.

“Was that what you were doing a month back measuring my chest and wings?” John wanted to look up to see Sherlock's face but couldn't tear his eyes away from the black leather harness. “I thought you were just recording my wing growth of something.”

“I apologize for the long wait. I wanted to make it myself but didn't have the skills necessary to make such a complicated garment.” John finally looked up to meet his eyes and Sherlock smirked inwardly at the smitten emotions flickering across John's face. “Well try it on. I want to see if I made it perfect or not.”

“Help me put it on.” Was John’s immediate answer. 

Pale hands were held out in front of him as John reluctantly handed the black leather over. “Lift your wings up.” 

John did just that, but let his wings graze over Sherlock's body in the process. 

The new harness was placed firmly under the part where wing and body met, over John's exceptionally large shoulder blades. Sherlock wrapped the thick leather around John, each end of the harness meeting across John's chest. Three wide straps were secured with flat silver metal buckles, the straps having several punched holes to allow room for further growth. Reaching back behind John on his right side, Sherlock grabbed a thick leather strap and bought it forward over John's shoulder on the outside of his Angel's wing. The strap forked just under John's collar bone and Sherlock secured each of the straps to buckles that were attached to part of the harness that was already secured to John’s chest. He did the same with the left side. “These,” Sherlock touched the forked straps. “Will stop the harness from sliding down your torso. The forked part of the straps will stop the straps from sliding off your shoulders, like many female braziers do.”

John let out a puff of air with a warm smile at the thought of Sherlock studying chicks and their loose bra straps. 

“You can put your wings down now.”

And John did, but thoroughly abused the loop holes in that order but wrapping them around Sherlock, pulling the taller male flush against his body.

Sherlock let out a gasp as he came into contact with the firm, warn chest of John Watson. “Behind you, idiot.” And Sherlock gave himself a mental pat on the back when he didn't whimper at the sensation of silken soft Angel feathers gliding over his exposed arms. 

Moving quickly behind John, Sherlock lifted his right wing up minutely to pull free the trapped leather straps. The first strap on the back to be secured was the one that ran up in between John's shoulder blades. The leather forked again in a gentle curve around the base of John's neck, Sherlock having to come back round the front to secure each strap to the area above the forked parts of the shoulder straps. “For additional comfort and to support the weight of your wings once secured.”

John hummed his approval and folded his arms across his chest, surprised at the level of comfort already. 

Moving back behind John, Sherlock pulled free a very wide leather strap and indicated that he fold his right wing as close to his body as he could do so comfortably. John complied and pulled his wing flush to his back, the way he had before with his old harness. The joints in his wing were all crammed vertically so the final part of his wing lay straight down his back. “No. That's wrong. I said 'comfortably'. Not 'a torturous angle that will give you cramp after an hour'.”

John laughed and loosened the tension in his wing. The new position brought the folded third joint to rest just above his shoulder, protruding the silhouette of his arm as well. 

“Better.” Sherlock reprimanded. Gently tilting his wing, Sherlock manoeuvred the appendage so that it rested just below John's shoulder then tilted the final part of the wing that held the largest feathers so that it would lie across his body diagonally, the tips of his longest feathers grazing the top of John's left buttocks. “The way you used to do it had the ends of your wings stuffed right down your pants. The joints of your wings will appreciate this angle more. As your wings get bigger though, I imagine you will need to start wearing longer coats.” With the wing in its optimal position, Sherlock took a very wide leather strap and secured it across the part of John’s wing where all the joints lay. He secured the tapered two ends of the strap to buckles that sat across John's ribs. “The strap has been done tight, but because it sits directly above all your joints you should be able to push against the bindings a bit for a feeling of encased security.”

John did just that as Sherlock secured his left wing, pushing against the confines of the harness with a delighted purr. It was so bloody comfy that John didn't mind at all that his wings were, in fact, trapped in leather. Once Sherlock was done strapping his wings down, John let out a sign of relief as he relaxed completely. With his old harness he had to keep a certain amount of tension in his shoulders and wings to keep them flat against his back. But with Sherlock's new harness, he could completely relax and not worry about popping a wing on some poor unsuspecting person. 

Sherlock ran his fingers over the exposed ends of his wings, toying with the areas where the wings crossed. “I also built in a safety/panic release. Should the moment arise where you need the use of your wings,” Sherlock moved to the front of John so he could look him in the eyes. “All you need to do is forcefully push against the harnesses across your wings...” Sherlock let the fingertip of his right index finger slowly trail down John's chest over the harness. “And the safety latch will release, freeing your wings.”

The moment he last word left Sherlock's mouth John pushed against the straps covering his wings with enough force to free him but not break the harness, and his wings came up, spread out wide. The sudden movement startled Sherlock, the man taking in a quick breath that did weird things within John. “Brilliant.” He whispered. 

“Sorry what?” Sherlock honestly didn't hear what John had said; too busy focusing on the delicious contrast between black leather and John's healthy flesh tones. The new harness looked like it belonged on some BDSM site.

“Brilliant.” John said louder, arm coming up to pull Sherlock against him in a hug. “You’re absolutely brilliant. So very intelligent. The smartest person I know.”

“You don't know many people, John.” Sherlock chuckled as he wrapped his arms around John's neck, head resting on top of golden spikes. He smiled into the flaxen hair when those glorious wings wrapped around him. 

“I don't need to know many people when I have you.”

“You'll regret those words one day, Mr. Watson.” Sherlock smirked.

“That'll be Dr. Watson if I pass this final exam.” John said proudly, before all the happiness drained from him entirely. His left wrist came up lightning fast between them to check the time on his watch, John's eyes going wide in comical shock. “The exam starts in half an hour!” John ran out of Sherlock's room into their flat before running back in just as suddenly. “Hurry up and secure my wings!”

Sherlock smirked as he quickly and efficiently secured the safety latch back in place before fastening the four straps. The moment he was finished John ran out of the room. Sherlock followed him out to watch John scrabble about in putting a top and thick puffy jacket on, deciding to tuck the ends if his wings into his pants. Grabbing his school bag he slung it over his shoulder, calling out to Sherlock as he fled the apartment for their university, only a fifteen minute walk away. “I'll be back in four hours! Don't wait up!”

And with that Sherlock was left alone in their flat. 

Padding back into his room, Sherlock got on his hands and knees in front of his bed, reaching under to grab the old leather harness. The brown leather was worn down ridiculously where the feathers had rested against the material. John had had to repair the monstrosity many times over the past twelve years. Sherlock hated this harness. Hell, he even hated the one he had just made for John. He loathed the idea of those beautiful wings being trapped against John's body so nobody would know that he was heavenly born. Sherlock had chosen this rather overpriced small flat because the windows were completely tinted. Nobody outside could see in; which meant John could walk around with his wings free. When they were kids, Sherlock wouldn't let John out of his sight. His favourite time to spend with John was in the bath. The sight of water droplets rolling over those perfect feathers made him want to implode. There was nothing but water between him and his Angel in the bath, no clothing, no damned harnesses, and no kept secrets from his family. Just Sherlock and John. Perfection. Sherlock had his sneaky suspicions that his mother knew about John staying over every night back then. And it was funny as hell trying to watch Mycroft figure John out. He had known there was something different about the young boy, but Sherlock knew all of his brother’s guesses would be exceedingly far from the truth. That made him beyond ecstatic. 

Sherlock took the worn old brown leather and went into the living room. He scanned the cluttered area for something appropriate to store the old harness away permanently. He smiled when his eyes settled on an ornate wooden box engraved with angels blowing on trumpets and playing the harp. He had given it to John one Christmas as a gag gift and John had scowled at the stereotypical depiction if angels. “Like we have enough time on our hands to learn to play the trumpet or harp. We are far too busy watching over humanity to learn an instrument. I had never even held a pen before I was entrusted to you, that's how busy I was!”

The box was thankfully empty, the brown leather being folded delicately when placed inside. As much as he wanted to throw the horrible thing out, Sherlock couldn't bring himself to. The only good thing about awful harness is that after a long day of John's wings being imprisoned in the leather, he would take the offending garment off with a deep groan of relief and let Sherlock massage away at his wings to relieve the discomfort. 

He replaced the lid back on the box and turned to walk to John's room. Collapsing on the others bed, Sherlock curled himself up in John's scent, calm washing over him. Little downy feathers littered the bed where John had been preening himself. Sherlock twisted one of the little feathers between his fingertips, watching the whiteness blur back and forth.

They were very careful about getting rid of John's shed feathers. Sherlock usually kept all the little downy ones, stuffing them into pillow cases to make Angel feather pillows. He had six full pillows on his bed, the seventh currently being filled. Seeing as the feathers were as close to indestructible as things came, getting rid of the bigger ones became tricky. Anything that couldn't be put into Sherlock's pillows was put into a separate canvas bag and stored away in John's closet until it was full. Once full the two men would take a trip out to the English country-side. They'd find a remote and deserted spot and dig a hole that went a meter and a half into the earth. The bag would be dropped down and buried, John whispering to the grass and dirt to protect and conceal his heavenly offerings, in a language Sherlock was pretty sure didn't exist. Only once did Sherlock revisit one of their old dumping grounds, shocked to find a large white oak had seemingly sprung out of nowhere. The base of the great oak had scars around it that indicated somebody had tried to cut the giant tree down, and failed miserably. Sherlock didn't bother visiting the other sites, already knowing that a great white oak would be settled where the feathers were buried. 

Clasping his hands together, Sherlock closed his eyes and curled in tighter around John's white duvet. “Dear Lord...” Sherlock breathed in John's scent and let a small smile grace his features. “Thank you for sparing me one of your Angels. He is perfect. No, he's more that perfect. He's everything I've ever needed and more. As promised, I am more inclined to believe in your existence from John's presence. I still have a few doubts mind you, but I acknowledge that there is a higher power out there for they sent me this perfect being. And in respect to your possible existence, I've erased everything I know about the solar system from my mind and remain pleasantly quiet when my acquaintances discuss the origins of the Earth.” Sherlock thought for a moment on what to say next, smiling when the words came to him. “Are you aware of John’s sailors’ mouth? I wonder if he used such foul language before he met me, or if I've just brought that out in him. Probably the latter. I made him a new harness for his wings. Although I personally wish he could just walk around with his wings free. But I understand the importance of secrecy on this matter. He's studying to become a doctor. I think it's because he wants to help out as many people as he can whilst he is earthbound to me. He's very noble like that. I have a feeling he's going to cheat a bit though, you know, use his heavenly gifts to help heal people faster. All in all, I just wanted to thank you for giving me one of your Angels, and I promise to protect him and care for him and love him until we have to part ways. A-men.”

“I didn't know you loved me.” John's smile was etched into his voice. “And what are you doing in my room?”

“Lonely.” Sherlock replied. He didn't get a fright from John's sudden appearance and wasn't shocked in the slightest that four hours had passed in what felt like fifteen minutes. He often lost track of time when in John's room. “How'd the exam go?”

“Good, I think. Should be interesting to see who passed in my class.” John was currently completing his Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery (MBBS) papers, this being the last paper that he would have to completely before he got the unofficial title of ‘Doctor’. Sherlock couldn’t wait for him to become an official doctor.

John walked further into his room and pulled off his shirt. Sitting down on his bed with his back to Sherlock, John undid the buckles in the front as he felt Sherlock slide up behind him and undo the ones on the back. “Your harness is unbelievably comfortable. Forgot I had wings a couple of times.” Once all the buckles were undone, John took the harness off and placed it carefully at the end of his bed, mindful of Sherlock as he stretched his wings out. John sighed happily when there was no pain in his joints. He wasn't surprised in the slightest when Sherlock pushed him onto his back, curling up against his chest. His left wing, the one Sherlock was partially lying on, wrapped itself around the youngest Holmes. When Sherlock snuggled in further to his chest John wrapped his wing around the other tighter. 

“I'm sorry.” Sherlock mumbled against his skin. 

“For what? You haven't done anything wrong.”

“For not making the new harness before now. I could have saved you from years of pain, but I was too self absorbed to even think about it. I wouldn't be surprised if being in that old harness stunted your growth and that's why you are so short.”

“The harness and my height are not related. I can assure you.” John smiled at Sherlock's constant jabs regarding his height. 

“The point is… I'm sorry.” Sherlock pulled at John's other wing which was resting at the others side over his head so he was completely encased in John. “I promise to pay more attention to you and your needs so something like this never happens again.”

John didn't bother trying to argue with Sherlock on this matter. His charge wasn't in any form of wrong but had managed to convince himself that he was. So all he said instead was, “Thank you.”

\----------------------------------------

They stayed like that for hours, content in each others presence. John was on the verge of sleep when Sherlock's stomach gave a very loud, very long rumble. 

John lifted his wings to look at Sherlock. “When was the last time you ate?”

“A few days ago.” Sherlock mumbled, trying to drag one of the wings back over him. But John was having none of that. 

John knew that 'a few days' in Sherlock-speak meant over four. “What do you feel like eating?” John sat up and smiled softly when Sherlock just slid down his chest until his head rested in his lap. 

“Honestly, pizza.” Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s waist as he felt the weight of the man's left wing rest against his back. 

“I'm down for pizza.” John dug in his right pocket and pulled out his cell, dialling the local pizza shop and making an order for a hawaiian, meat lovers and supreme pizza to all be delivered to their apartment. “I'm gunna assume you have cash on you?”

“In my wallet.”

“You do realize you're going to have to answer the door and get the pizza.”

“I may or may not be aware of that fact.” Sherlock felt John roll his eyes above him. “Tell you what though. I'll get up and pay for the pizza without a fuss if you do something for me first.”

“Without a fuss? I don't believe it.” John joked. “What do you want me to do?”

“It's not so much what I want you to do, as what I would like from you.”

“And what do you want from me?” John just knew that whatever Sherlock wanted, it wasn't going to be good. 

“A kiss.”

“A KIS...”

“Before you go off sprouting shit about adultery, a kiss isn't counted as sex so therefore isn't adultery. When two people love each other very much, sometimes they kiss. And as you overheard before, I love you, and I know you love me, so there really isn't any explainable problem in us kissing.”

“But we are both men!”

“Your point?”

“I don’t have one. I was hoping you would.”

“You’re an Angel, John. What about this situation,” Sherlock sat up and motioned between himself and John a couple of times with his hand. “Strikes you as normal?”

“But, I don't know if...”

“Are you saying you don't love me, John?”

“What? No. Of course not. I love you very much. But what I'm trying to say is...”

“And I love you.” Sherlock locked eyes with John and smiled inwardly when he had silenced the other man. “I love you very much. More than anything or anyone.” Sherlock took John's silence as partial acceptance and slowly moved his body until he was sitting in John's lap. He smiled happily when John's hand rested on his hips and his wings came around to shield them from the outside world. “I love you.” Sherlock said one last time, leaning his head forward until he was mere centimetres away from John's face. 

“I love you too.” John closed the distance between them and pressed his lips gently against Sherlock's, pulling his head back after three seconds.

“See, wasn't so hard or evil now was it?” Sherlock smiled, leaning his forehead against John's. 

“No, it wasn't.” John smiled in return. “In fact, I wouldn't mind doing it again. Maybe a bit longer this time?”

Sherlock didn't need to be asked twice. The kiss was exactly the same pressure as before, only instead of three seconds, this one went on for five seconds. 

“Again.”

Seven seconds. 

“Again.”

Ten seconds. 

“Again.”

Around the five second mark, Sherlock pressed his lips a bit more firmly against John's for the next two seconds. 

“Again.”

This kiss started off like the last one ended, lasting a whole seven seconds. 

John's wings pressed Sherlock flush against his body. Before the other could demand “Again” Sherlock licked at John's lips, gently nipping the others bottom lip. 

John moaned. 

The doorbell rang. 

Sherlock groaned. 

“No fuss remember.” John smirked as he let his wings settle behind him, Sherlock flipping him the bird as he stomped his way to his room to get his wallet. 

Sherlock shoved the appropriate amount of money at the delivery boy and grabbed his pizzas, locking the front door behind him. He dumped the boxes on the kitchen bench and glared at John as the shorter man came happily strolling into the room. His glare completely disappeared though when John got up on his tiptoes and pecked Sherlock on the lips. 

“I want you to eat at least four pieces. For every piece you eat, I'll give you a kiss.”

“That's blackmail.” Sherlock grumped, glaring down at the pizza. 

“Its tactical motivation for my idiotic charge who forgets to feed himself regularly.”

“Yeah, blackmail.”

Sherlock ate six pieces of pizza that night. He would have eaten more, but John made him stop before he was sick from overeating.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sherlock remembered the first time he had suggested to John that they try kissing with tongues. 

“What? Why would we do that?”

“Because it feels good.”

“How would you know? You've only ever kissed me!”

“Because all the other people that I see doing it seem to be really enjoying themselves!”

“Sinners! Every single one of them!”

“So you're telling me,” Sherlock stalked up to John, utilizing his height to bare down over the other male, not surprised in the slightest when John's wings came up to make up for the height difference. “That when we kiss,” Sherlock placed a quick peck on John's lips and smiled when the Angel's eyes instantly glazed over. “You don't feel the urge,” The next kiss lasted a second longer and John followed his lips seeking more when he pulled back. “Feel the desire,” Sherlock kissed him harder, biting John's bottom lip gently when he pulled back. “For the kiss to get more intense?” John leant forward to receive his next kiss but frowned when all Sherlock did was smirk and pull away. 

“Of course I do. But I thought that that was how you were meant to feel after a kiss.”

“It is how you are meant to feel. And the beauty of the matter is that you can get more by adding your tongue to the mix.”

John seemed lost in his thoughts. 

“We can try it once, and if you don't like it, we can stop and never do it again.”

John looked up at Sherlock like his charge had just offered up his soul. “We can try it once?”

“And if you don't like it, we will never do it again.”

“... Ok.”

Sherlock smiled then kissed John gently. When John made the kiss firmer, Sherlock pulled away and waited for John to open his eyes and look at him. “Just follow my lead, ok?”

“Ok?” John husked.

Sherlock resumed their firm kissing, licking John's lips and nipping them in between the kisses until John subsequently opened his mouth slightly. Sherlock took the opportunity and ran his tongue over the parted seam of John's lips. John moaned and wrapped his wings around Sherlock, hands pulling the taller man's waist against his own. Instead of just plunging inside, Sherlock teased John with open mouthed kisses, the wet noises riling John up, making the Angel desperate. 

“Please, Sherlock...”

And with a smirk, Sherlock eased his tongue into John's mouth. He pulled at the muscle to meet him halfway and was delighted to find the John was a quick learner. Wet muscles slid over each other with inexperience, the clumsy innocence of it all making Sherlock's blood run hot. 

He didn't know when, but at some point, John had manoeuvred them both so that John was sitting on the couch with Sherlock in his lap, neither willing to end their kiss any time soon. Sherlock's arms came over John’s shoulders, hands fisting in short blonde hair. The two were suddenly cast in darkness as John's wings shielded around them, not even light penetrating the feathery armour. Sherlock moaned in a low keen when the two finally parted for air, the keen turning into a whimper when John nibbled at his lips.

Their intense kiss never really ended. The heady daze that came with making out with an Angel had Sherlock reduced to moans as John continued to kiss him constantly with light pecks. When Sherlock couldn't take anymore, he moved his head to the side and hugged John tight, smiling wonderfully when John did the same.

Still encased in darkness, John rubbed soothing circles into Sherlock's back with his thumbs. “We can definitely do that again.”

“Good.” Was all Sherlock could manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, I promised sex in this chapter, but just couldn't do it. I just felt it didn't fit into this part of the timeline, because I made them in University and not when they were a bit older and in their 221B flat. Please forgive me!! The next chapter will be with them in 221B and sex will most definately be happening in there, I just gotta figure out how Sherlock is gunna make an Angel sin, sin for real, lol. And everybody likes a bit of fluff now and then, even if you say you hate it (like me) you secretly love it ;P
> 
> I uploaded this very quickly in my opinion, but I don't think the next chapter is going to come out nearly as fast because I am very busy at the moment and am gunna struggle like a mofo in trying to get Angel!John to sin... Or at least sin outside of marriage hahaha *gets shot*
> 
> If you liked this then please KUDOS and if you really liked it then please COMMENT!! I appreciate every form of support and OhMyAngel!John thank you so much to the 7 people that have bookmarked this fic!! I hope I delievered something that will keep you wanting to read this fic!!


	3. Chapter 3

When Sherlock first introduced kissing to John, he had no idea of the monster he would create. Because John Watson loved kissing. Absolutely loved it. Any chance where a kiss seemed appropriate to John, the doctor would take it.  
   
Come home from work: Kiss Sherlock.  
   
Wake up in the morning: Kiss Sherlock.  
   
Go to bed: Kiss Sherlock.  
   
See Sherlock eating: Interrupt eating to kiss Sherlock.  
   
Catch Sherlock looking at his wings: Kiss Sherlock.  
   
See a person praying: Kiss Sherlock.  
   
Hear Sherlock denying God’s existence: Kiss Sherlock.  
   
Solve a case: Kiss Sherlock regardless of who is present.  
   
Take his harness off: Kiss Sherlock.  
   
Put his harness on: Kiss Sherlock.  
   
Catch Sherlock in the act of collecting his little downy feathers: Push Sherlock onto the bed and really kiss Sherlock.  
   
“ENOUGH!” Sherlock finally burst out when John had given him his fifth kiss after coming home from work. “Whilst I appreciate all the attention and bloody kisses, I can’t stand them anymore!”  
   
“I thought you liked kissing me.” John looked like a kicked puppy.  
   
“I do. I love it. But there is a time and place for everything, John. And when all you do is kiss and nothing else, it pisses me off!”  
   
“Well what else am I meant to do? What else do you want me to do?” John was mirroring Sherlock’s frustrated anger.  
   
“Sex, John! I want to have sex! Any way I can get it, as long as it involves you. But I can’t fucking fuck you because you’re a bloody Angel, and fucking Angel’s can’t have fucking sex!”  
   
“Adultery is a si…”  
   
“If you even dare to finish that sentence I will never kiss you ever again.” Sherlock’s eyes held no wiggle room in that threat.  
   
“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I really am. I know that you want to… be more intimate with me, but…” John let his sentence trail off, hanging his head. “I’m sorry.”  
   
Sherlock felt really guilty now.  
   
Walking forward, Sherlock placed his hands on John’s hips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of John’s flaxen head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, it’s nobody’s fault… It just sucks is all.” Sherlock smiled into John’s hair when he felt his Angel reach up and wrap his arms around his shoulders. When John looked up with wide, loving blue eyes, Sherlock kissed him. “How about we take your harness off, yeah?”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
John let Sherlock strip his upper body, his clothes going to sit over the back of a kitchen chair. John undid the buckles at the front whilst Sherlock undid the ones along his ribs securing his wings. Sherlock placed the harness on top of John’s clothes. His Angel had yet to stretch his wings out, keeping them in the same position that they had been in the harness. So Sherlock buried his head in the left wing, fingers clutching gingerly in the right. “Can we go lie down? I just got really tired.”  
   
“Sure.” John used his wings to bring Sherlock to his front, and held him at his side, leading him to their shared bedroom downstairs. Sherlock barely slept these days, his brilliant mind working against him and keeping him awake for unhealthy periods of time. But he could at least rest beside John, so the doctor had ordered that they share a bedroom the moment they moved into 221B Baker Street.  
   
“No. Upstairs.”  
   
John looked worriedly at his charge for a second before walking them both slowly upstairs. When Sherlock’s legs gave in and he collapsed John easily caught him and carried him bridal style up the stairs. It had been so many days since Sherlock had had proper sleep that lasted more than two hours and John didn’t even want to think about the last time Sherlock had eaten something more than a biscuit here and there.  
   
Once upstairs, John took Sherlock to the spare bedroom. With permission from their land lady, they had ripped down the existing wall paper in this room and personally painted the entire room black. The hardwood floors had been covered in the finest stained black oak money could buy (with Mycroft’s credit card (John hadn’t known at the time)). The window had also been painted over black, so not a speck of light could enter the room. In the middle of the room sat a large king sized mattress, black silk sheets covering it. Where there would have been a duvet instead rested all of the little downy feathers that Sherlock had ever collected. Approximately 25 pillow cases worth; all emptied onto the top of the black silk sheets. This was were John placed Sherlock down, carefully placing that long lean body in the middle of his shed feathers. Sherlock curled in around the feathers, enveloping himself in John’s scent. John’s texture, John’s everything.  
   
“I’ll be back in just a tick. I’m going to make us both some tea and a sandwich for you. Something easy; like jam.” When he didn’t receive form of a negative from Sherlock, John turned on the light. Thousands of stars exploded to life in the room, not just on the ceiling, but on every wall and the back of the door as well. The stars had been John’s idea, him liking the ones on Sherlock’s childhood bedroom ceiling so much. Sherlock made a sound of agreement to the stars being turned on and turned over in the feathers to gaze at his surroundings, verbally listing off all the constellations.  
   
John smiled and closed the door.  
   
\----------------------------------------------------------  
   
John was carrying a tray with two mugs of camomile tea and a blackberry jam sandwich up the stairs when he heard somebody speaking inside the ‘black room’. Leaning against the closed doorframe, John listened to the words he could make out from within.  
   
“…Lord please… want to connect… John and I… see it as a… love him very much… deepen our love… but I understand… commune through John your answer… please… A-men.”  
   
John waited 30 seconds before opening the door and letting himself in. The room was only partially lit with the light from the LED stars, but it was enough for John to see Sherlock and a path to Sherlock. Placing the tray down on the floor beside the bed, John got down on the bed, resting his back against the wall and instantly had Sherlock pressed up against his side. A very nude Sherlock. John wrapped his left wing around Sherlock’s frame, pulling the taller man tighter against him. Reaching out, John handed Sherlock his mug of tea and sandwich, placing the plate in his own lap as he finally sipped away at his own tea.  
   
Sherlock swallowed a large mouthful of tea, pleased with the temperature and strength of the camomile blend. A bite was taken of the sandwich and John was happy to hear a moan of delight at the sweet tartness of the blackberry jam. “I need to take measurements on your wing span again.”  
   
“You did that only two weeks ago.”  
   
“Yes. But I am almost positive your wings have grown since then. One wing was never able to completely cover me.” Sherlock motioned with his hand still holding the sandwich at John’s left wing acting like a large blanket, all of Sherlock safely tucked between the soft indestructible feathers and his body.  
   
“Huh, you don’t say. Reckon I’ll be able to fly soon?”  
   
“I honestly don’t want you trying. The risks are too high and the increase in musculature from the exertion is not something that I want to see on you right now.”  
   
John chuckled. Slightly tanned fingers loosely wrapped themselves around Sherlock's wrist and brought the hand holding the sandwich back up to Sherlock’s mouth. “Eat.”  
   
Sherlock made to protest.  
   
“Please.”  
   
A small bite was taken, Sherlock resting his head against John’s shoulder. His Angel’s skin was always so warm. No matter the temperature, John could walk around shirtless comfortably. It pissed Sherlock off to an extent, because his body always seemed to suffer from the cold. Most likely due to the fact that he didn’t have much on his body to warm him in means of fat and muscle. But Sherlock always smirked beautifully when John and him would share a bed and Sherlock would press his cold body against his overly warm Angel and relish the soft “gah!” John would make.  
   
“John.”  
   
“Yes, Sherlock.”  
   
“I would like to ask you why you keep stealing my coats.”  
   
“It’s not stealing ‘cause I always bring them back. Merely borrowing without permission.”  
   
“Well I would like to know why you keep ‘borrowing’ my coats ‘without permission’.”  
   
“Because none of mine are long enough, and all of yours either end mid-thigh or lower.”  
   
“You are referring to needing a long coat to hide your wings from point of view, yes?”  
   
“Yes. They’ve gotten too big to stuff down the seat of my trousers without looking like I’m trying to smuggle something inside my pants.”  
   
“Then why don’t you go buy yourself your own coats? If it’s a matter of funds, I would more than happy to spend a day shopping with you for coats of appropriate length.”  
   
“I can afford my own coats thank you.”  
   
“Then why do you insist on wearing mine?”  
   
“…”  
   
“I refuse to eat for a week unless you answer me.”  
   
John sighed. Honestly, talking with Sherlock was like dealing with a five year old sometimes. “Because I like that your coats have your scent on them.”  
   
Sherlock knew that wasn’t the end of it. “Go on.” John was hiding something, had been trying, and failing, to hide this something for quite a while now.  
   
John finished the rest of his tea and placed the empty mug back on the tray before wrapping his left arm around Sherlock’s middle, the right combing through his own short, blonde locks. “For some reason I really dislike being away from you. I’ve never liked being separated from you for any length of time, mind you. But it’s different now. When I’m away from you; at work, doing groceries, when you run off on your own after a case, when we aren’t even in the same room… I feel like, like I’m going to explode or something. I just get so anxious and fidgety and even angry sometimes. I can’t stand it. And I’ve asked Father what’s happening, but all he said is that I’ll figure out in time. That I need to figure it out on my own. But in the meantime Father said that nothing is wrong with me, and that everything is fine, and as long as I keep on loving you then things will sort themselves out. Oh, and I finally got the nerve after all these years to ask Father if kissing you was counted as a sin.”  
   
“And, pray tell, what did he say?”  
   
“He said, ‘Sherlock is a very smart young man who continues to find loop holes in all my commands’.” John laughed, raising Sherlock’s sandwich to his mouth again, his charge scowling as he took another bite. “But he went on to say, ‘No, John, kissing with Sherlock is not sin. But kissing with anyone else who isn’t your charge is counted as one of the greatest sins, so stay true to the young Sherlock Holmes and all will be forgiven’.”  
   
Sherlock looked up at John with wide, inquisitive eyes. “Say that last part again.”  
   
John was confused but did as was asked of him. “Stay true to the young Sherlock Holmes and all will be forgiven.”  
   
Sherlock's grin was so honest and genuine that it stole the breath from John.  
   
“What about that made you happy?”  
   
“You’ll see in time.” Sherlock finished his sandwich as quick as he could, draining his tea and giving John the plate and mug to place on the tray. Once free, Sherlock pulled John down to lay with him, curling happily against his Angel and all but purred when not only did John’s wings completely wrap around him but strong arms cradled him like precious cargo too.  
   
John looked up at the ceiling and focused on the constellation that Sherlock was born under. “I’m officially sick of hearing that, by the way.”  
   
“I’m sure a slow witted creature like you would be.” No ill-intent was in Sherlock's voice, but just in case John took offense Sherlock placed a kiss to the swell of pectoral in front of his lips.  
   
And that was the last thing Sherlock said, the last action he did, and John could safely say that the last thoughts on the detectives mind were of him before John forced a deep sleep onto the youngest Holmes.  
   
“All will be forgiven…”  
   
John had a few ideas at what that meant and both anticipated and feared what Sherlock would do with this new information, this seeming God’s blessing for them to sin away happily.  
   
\--------------------------------------------------------------------  
   
“Mmmnh…” Sherlock buried his face as deep as he could into the little downy angel feathers surrounding him. The great thing about John’s feathers was that no matter how hard he tried, Sherlock couldn’t hurt himself with the heavenly things. He could open his mouth, stick his head in the feathers, then take a deep breath in: but not one feather would enter his mouth and risk choking him. They’d just shift about him, gently sliding past his lips but never pass the threshold of danger. He’d taken one of the downy feather pillows and held it tight across his face to try and suffocate himself, but the feathers would just shift and move inside their cotton confinement to make a path for a safe and steady air flow. Sherlock wondered whether this just applied to him because John was his Guardian Angel, or if angel feathers just couldn’t harm people in general.  
   
Sherlock brought his arms inwards, pulling all the loose feathers close to his chest as he tried to clutch to the last remains of sleep before sitting up so quickly his head ached with the change of blood pressure in his skull. “John.” He groaned, looking about the pitch black room with its stars still twinkling away. From what he could see, John wasn’t in the room.  
   
Standing up suddenly, Sherlock stumbled towards the door, yanking it open. His feet moved before him clumsily, his body slow and sluggish in responding to his brain’s moving signals. Fucking bastard. John had used his hypno-angel-sleep thing again. If Sherlock forced himself awake before the hypno-sleep had run its proper course then his body would respond slowly for another hour or so. Was sleep really that important?  
   
“John.” Sherlock rested all his weight on the walls around him, slowly moving down the hall, little downy feathers falling from his clothing as he went. “John!”  
   
“Sherlock.” A voice sounded from downstairs.  
   
That voice didn’t sound like John’s, but he couldn’t be sure with the hypno-sleep still fogging his brain. Sherlock dropped to his knees at the top of the stairs. Leaning down he let his face pass a few of the steps in line with the top of the banister until he could see through into the living room.  
   
Not John. But Mycroft.  
   
“Fuck off, ‘croft.”  
   
“Always so delightful after a long sleep now aren’t we, baby brother.” Mycroft smirked up at Sherlock as he watched the youngest Holmes slowly crawl his way down the stairs. Frowning, Mycroft analysed his brother. There were the every present feathers that Sherlock had been collecting as a kid, but where from, Mycroft had yet to determine. “What did you take last night?”  
   
“I didn’t take anything.” Sherlock snapped out before he could think better of it. Mycroft was wondering why his body was so sluggish and unresponsive. “I took a sleeping tablet last night because I hadn’t slept in three days and John kept hassling me to rest.”  
   
“Right.” His answer only seemed to appease Mycroft.  
   
“What are you doing here? And where’s John?”  
   
“I’ve come to invite you to Mummy’s birthday lunch.”  
   
“I don’t want to go.”  
   
“It’s not always about what you want, Sherlock.”  
   
“I don’t care, I’m not going.”  
   
“It would make Mummy ever so happy if you were to at least show your face for an hour or two. She’s barely seen you ever since you ran off to university, and even less since you moved to London with Mr. Watson.”  
   
“Dr. Watson.” Sherlock corrected him.  
   
“Of course. My apologies.”  
   
Sherlock didn’t miss the smirk at his automatic correction. Tosser.  
   
“Hey, Sherlock, they didn’t have any of our usual tea, but I got something else that might be…” John had just walked in the front door and took in his surrounding and both of the Holmes brothers. Shit. “Mycroft, it’s been a while.” John held out his hand and smiled when Mycroft shook it.  
   
“Too long.” Mycroft greeted back.  
   
“And what brings you to this part of London?” John walked into the kitchen and started unpacking the three bags of groceries.  
   
“I’ve come to invite Sherlock to Mummy’s birthday lunch. She also informed me to invite you too, Dr. Watson.”  
   
“When is it on? And John is just fine, Mycroft.” John smiled at the thought of getting to see Mrs. Holmes again. She was such a lovely woman, and always prayed every night without fail.  
   
“This Saturday at noon.”  
   
“We’ll be there.” John confirmed, placing the last of the groceries away.  
   
“John, you can’t just…” Sherlock started before John turned around and fixed him with a silencing look.  
   
“We are going to go celebrate your mother’s birthday, Sherlock. It’s not up for discussion.” John walked over to the bottom of the stair case where his charge was slumped at the bottom. He helped Sherlock up and let the younger man bury his head in his chest.  
   
“But it’s all the way out in…”  
   
“Not. Up. For. Discussion.”  
   
“I’ll go if you give me something.”  
   
John lent down and gave Sherlock a light kiss. “Something like that?”  
   
“Almost…” Sherlock kissed John again, harder this time before leaning back to whisper in his Angel’s ear. “But I was hoping for something a little more… risqué.”  
   
“You better not be talking about sinning…”  
   
Mycroft cleared his throat and watched John jump slightly as the older man separated himself from Sherlock. “Can I expect you at the family house, noon on Saturday?”  
   
“We’ll be there.” John nodded, ignoring the small sound of protest Sherlock gave.  
   
“Delightful. I’ll be off now, try not to disturb the neighbours.” Before either John or Sherlock could rebut Mycroft was gone, closing their apartment door behind them.  
   
“Tea?” John offered, walking into the kitchen.  
   
“I’m sure we were discussing the terms to me going to Mummy’s party.” Sherlock didn’t quite trust his legs yet so leant against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.  
   
“Until you suggested sin then all negotiations were severed.” John puttered around the kitchen in his familiar pattern to make a cup of tea for himself and one for Sherlock.  
   
“I was only going to suggest a hand-job, John, nothing too serious on the sin-o-meter.”  
   
“Anything that even measures slightly on the ‘sin-o-meter’ is out of the question, Sherlock.”  
   
“You are aware that to some people two men kissing is considered worse than sex before marriage, right?”  
   
“We are going by God’s sin-o-meter, not stuck up religious snobs.”  
   
“And God doesn’t care about same sex relationships?”  
   
“The heavenly Father doesn’t waste breath on who falls in love with whom. And as long as the human populace doesn’t threaten to dwindle away, he never will.”  
   
“So the moment humanity is threatened into extinction…”  
   
“Men and women shall copulate only outside of their own gender for the greater good of mankind. Then once the numbers have risen to a satisfactory level again, people may love whoever they wish again.”  
   
“I suppose that’s fair.”  
   
“But mankind isn’t anywhere near extinction, so there is currently no problem with two men or two women loving each other in any way they wish. Although they will be judged just the same if they sin outside of marriage.”  
   
“So what you are suggesting is that if we want to do anything sexual, we should get married first?”  
   
“Yes, that’s… wait, no. No! That isn’t what I was saying at all. Angels can’t marry in the first place anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”  
   
“So we can never have sex?”  
   
“Correct.”  
   
“Seems a little harsh, don’t you think?”  
   
“Not at all.” John finished making their tea and walked into the lounge, placing the mugs on the coffee table. He moved to help Sherlock to sit on the couch. “I have no desire to have s… to sin, so I don’t find it harsh at all.”  
   
“No desire to sin?”  
   
“At all.”  
   
“What if somebody was trying to kill me and the only way you could save me was by killing them?”  
   
“… Please don’t go and get yourself in a situation where you could get killed just to prove a point.”  
   
“So you wouldn’t kill somebody if they threatened to kill me?”  
   
“… If it meant saving you, then yes. I would.”  
   
“So you’d happily take a life, but won’t even consider having sex?”  
   
“Don’t twist my words, Sherlock.”  
   
“What’s so wrong with two people who love each other very much wanting to express their love physically in the joining of their bodies?”  
   
“Drop it, Sherlock. It’s not happening.”  
   
“Do you not find me attractive, is that the problem? You’re stuck with me because God made me you my Guardian Angel and you only love me in the ‘family’ sense of the word?”  
   
“I find you very attractive, Sherlock, that’s not the prob…”  
   
“Then what is it!? Why won’t you have sex with me?!” Sherlock had worked himself up, yelling at John.  
   
“I don’t know if I can!” John yelled right back, burying his head in his hands. “I don’t know if I can actually have sex, Sherlock. It’s not something Angels have ever done, so I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how to, and quite honestly, the thought of sex scares the living shit out of me. What if I have sex and then can’t get back into heaven? What if we have sex and I can get back into heaven but you can’t? There are just so many uncertainties and I don’t need the stress of worrying about our afterlife right now.”  
   
“… Our afterlife?” Sherlock asked, never having spent a second of his time to contemplate what would happen to himself, or John for that matter, after he had died.  
   
“Yes, Sherlock. Our afterlife. I know you don’t really believe in any of that, but I obviously do. I kinda have to, considering. And if I can keep you on the right path, as is my heavenly duty, then you can join me in heaven and we can spend the rest of eternity together. We would be in our own private heaven, where I’m sure God can craft us up some illusionary murders to solve to our hearts content. And after you are sick of solving pretend murders, I just know I can talk God into letting us observe actual murders from up there and you can swear at the police for being so stupid and everything will just be perfect, Sherlock.” John looked up at Sherlock and held one of those thin pale hands in his own. “But I can’t guarantee any of that, if we si… if we have sex. I just can’t. And it’s not like I can just ask the big man upstairs if it’s good and sweet if we shack it up like rabbits. I… I just…”  
   
Sherlock silenced John with a soft kiss. “I understand. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I’ve just been so frustrated…”  
   
“I know. And I’m sorry I can’t do anything about it. I… I like the idea of us being closer physically, but there is just too much at risk in becoming closer that way.”  
   
“I’m sorry.” Sherlock rested his head on John’s shoulder, his Angel moving his head to rest on top of his own. “But can I point out something, without you flipping out over it?”  
   
“… Of course. You can tell me anything, but I make no promises on the ‘flipping out’.” John let out an amused huff of breath.  
   
“You know when you told me that you and God spoke, and he ended up telling you that as long as you remained true to me ‘all would be forgiven’?”  
   
“Yes, I recall that conversation.”  
   
“Is it possible, and hear me out, that God meant: As long as you remain faithful to me, love nobody else, Guard over no one else, that anything that should happen between us will be forgive in the eyes of the Lord. Including any sin that should take place.”  
   
“… It’s possible. But we can’t just go ahead and…”  
   
“I know. There is too much risk involved for us to be acting on a translation of a supposed deity’s words. But do you think you could ask God about it? For me? I just don’t want us dismissing physical love completely before we have all the facts straight.”  
   
John thought about that for a moment. “I’ll ask him. But I’ll only ask him once you are asleep. If you don’t sleep tonight then I won’t ask.”  
   
Sherlock let out a put upon sigh. “You just love to manipulate me into eating and sleeping, don’t you?”  
   
“Well I can’t keep putting you to sleep, it’s bad for the mental minds of humans if you do it more than once every two days. Which is why I only do it about once a week, gotta keep you in tip-top condition.” John smiled a laugh, kissing the top of Sherlock's head.  
   
\----------------------------------------------------------------  
   
Sherlock did sleep that night. He even slept without the aid of hypno-angel-crap. But when John had gone to shower that evening, Sherlock had slipped into the Angel’s room and hidden a recording device up on John’s bookcase out of sight. The device immediately save all data onto a removable 32gb memory card, so could record several days worth of sound.  
   
John came quietly into his room the following morning, waking Sherlock with a light kiss placed on his curly hair.  
   
Sherlock blinked himself awake and smiled like he used to when he was five at the sight before him. John was dressed in khaki trousers, a black leather belt keeping them in place on his hips. His golden hair had started to show a few premature greys that Sherlock had theorised to John’s forced aging. But it did nothing to detract from his appearance in Sherlock’s opinion. Covering his torso was a thin cotton dress shirt. And whilst Sherlock preferred his Angel topless, the thin cotton hugged the doctor’s frame in such a way that made Sherlock not want to destroy the garment immediately. But the thing that had made him smile like a kid, the memories of getting used to John as an Angel of all things had been so new, was how the sunlight that was pouring through the windows was leaking through his Angel’s feathers. Little threadbare beams of light were escaping anywhere the feathers would allow it; the rest of the light falling to frame John, and Sherlock would swear on his life that he could see a halo on the top of John’s head. He knew that was impossible though, because John had said that earthbound Angel’s didn’t have halos. John looked so breath taking. So perfect.  
   
“Sherlock, could you strap me in?”  
   
Sherlock re-evaluated John. He had completely missed the snug black leather encasing the man’s upper torso. “Sure.” He let out sleepily.  
   
John turned around and tucked his wings onto their needed positions. “Thanks, babe.”  
   
Fingers moving in well practised motions, Sherlock secured John’s wings flat against the Angel’s back with a mild frown. “Babe? You hardly ever call me babe.” Sherlock scanned his mind palace in the ‘John’ rooms. Yes, rooms. The Angel took up that much space. “Actually, you’ve only ever called me babe three times including this time.”  
   
“Well I figured I should start calling you endearing names, sweetie.” John said the pet name with a haughty smirk  
   
Sherlock frowned in displeasure at the word. “And why on earth would you do that?”  
   
“I dunno, figured that if I could sin away with my boyfriend I could call him whatever the he… just whatever I want.”  
   
“Sin?” John turned around to watch all the pieces fall together in Sherlock’s mind. “Sin. You can sin?!”  
   
“We can sin.” John corrected, leaning down to peck his charge on the lips. “All we want.” Sherlock pulled him in for another, firmer kiss. “Father cleared everything up.” Now Sherlock was pulling him onto the bed. “Said that under the current and very unusual circumstances that us connecting physically should have really happened years ago.”  
   
“Years? I’ve wasted years not fucking you?!” Sherlock looked at John incredulously.  
   
John just laughed and kissed Sherlock once more before standing up. A shirt and jumper than seemed to have materialized out of nowhere were being pulled over John’s head as he walked out of Sherlock’s room. “And with that thought, I’ve got to go to work. See you later, honey.”  
   
John dodged the pillow that was thrown at his back with ease.  
   
“Love you!” He called, slipping out of the front door, Sherlock listening to his footsteps descend the stairs.  
   
“The fucker!” Sherlock glared down between his legs were a hopefully erection was swelling. “YEARS!” Another pillow was thrown across the room in an attempt to vent frustration. “He is not getting away with this.” Getting out of bed, Sherlock took a cold shower and swore to the heavens about cock-blocking Angel’s.  
   
He gave himself a quick towel dry and tucked the towel around his hips before walking into their room, having spent the night in the ‘black room’, grabbing his cell on the way and sitting on his Guardian’s made bed. Sherlock noted all the malted feathers that John had placed on his bedside table for Sherlock to sort through. That bag of the bigger feathers must be getting full by now. An evil smirk settled on his features as he opened up a fresh message on his cell and began typing away to John.  
   
Hey, can you grab a few things on your way home – SH  
   
Sure. What do you want?  
   
We need more tea. And cheese. Coffee. Lubricant. Condoms. I think that’s all – SH  
   
… You can buy the last two items yourself.  
   
You’ve had me waiting for years apparently. You’re buying the lube and rubber – SH  
   
Great, now Sarah is asking me why my face is so red.  
   
Tell her it’s because you’re going to finally get laid tonight – SH  
   
Absolutely not.  
   
Tell her it’s because your charge is going to choke himself of your thick cock – SH  
Because your charge is going to stretch his virgin hole whilst making you watch – SH  
Because you’re going to fuck me so hard and so thoroughly that I won’t be able to walk properly for days after tonight – SH  
   
Sherlock, I’m at work. Please just wait until I get home to harass me.  
   
I’ve done my waiting. YEARS of it. You best be ready Dr. John Hamish Watson. I’m going to chain you my bed, and fuck myself on you so thoroughly you won’t be able to distinguish left from right by the time I’m through with you – SH  
Or perhaps you’d rather be the one being taken? – SH  
I can’t imagine many Angels have ever had sex, let alone taken it up the ass – SH  
I wonder if certain positions will be compromised due to your wings – SH  
I wonder what positions will be enhanced because of your wings - SH  
   
Seriously Sherlock, stop. I’ll buy the lube and condoms, just STOP texting me at WORK.  
   
I believe that this is actually called ‘sexting’. And it’s much more enjoyable when both parties involved participate – SH  
   
Well I wouldn’t know where to start. Honestly. You are going to have to do a tonne of research on how gay sex works because I have no clue.  
   
I did research on gay sex when I was 19, John. Thought that should the moment arise I should be well and truly prepared for it – SH  
   
Of course you did.  
   
Fuck, I’m getting so hot imagining you riding me. Will your wings be spread out or tucked tightly at your sides? – SH  
   
Still at work, Sherlock.  
   
Should I send you a picture of how worked up you’ve made me? – SH  
   
Turning my phone off now. See you when  I get home. x  
   
\-----------------------------------------------------------------  
   
John stood in front of 221B just staring at the brass numbers.  
   
Behind this door and up a single flight of stairs Sherlock would be waiting for him in their flat. Possibly naked. Most likely re-researched gay sex. Probably ready to launch an attack at John. And most definitely pissed off at having the chance to jump his bones years ago but being denied due to heavenly circumstances.  
   
John’s fingers tightened around the handle of the black plastic bag containing the lube and condoms. John had freaked out at the chemist once he had seen the very wide range of lubricant and condoms. One of the chemist’s had asked him if he needed any help and he had let everything spill to a complete stranger.  
   
“My boyfriend and I are probably going to have sex tonight for the very first time, and I have no idea what I’m doing, but he’s done a lot of research apparently and he is very good at research so he’ll know exactly what to do, but I have no clue and he’s sent me to get the lube and condoms but there are so many to choose from and I don’t know which ones I should get because he will positively kill me if I come home with the wrong ones because he has been wanting this to happen for years and I don’t know what to do.”  
   
The chemist had blinked three times before smiling kindly at his nervousness. She went through and explained all the different types of lubricant and what they are best suitable for and then told him about all about the different types of condoms and was very happy that John and his boyfriend were having safe sex. John left the chemist a bit more calm with two bottles of lube (one silicone based the other water based) and five boxes of condoms (regular, feather-lite, ribbed, latex free ones in case one of them turned out to be allergic to latex, and ones that were berry flavoured). Why condoms came in the flavoured variety, John wasn’t sure, but he figured he had bothered the chemist enough as it was. Sherlock would have to fill him in on that one.  
   
John unlocked the front door and closed it, locking the door again behind him. The stairs leading up to their flat had never been so daunting. John squared his shoulders and started up the stairs. He wasn’t going to let something as simple as sex get to him this much. He was an Angel for fucks sake. Switching keys John unlocked their flat door, closing the heavy wood and locking it. As much as he liked Mrs. Hudson, tonight was not the night for her to be popping in unannounced.  
   
“Sherlock?” He called out into the oddly silent flat. Keys and wallet were placed on the kitchen table as he moved in further to the living room.  
   
Petals.  
   
Rose petals to be exact.  
   
Red rose petals were placed on the ground at the entrance to the living room. A trail of them led through the lounge and up the stairs. Mixed in with the petals were little downy feathers, as if to point out that this surprising trail of petals was meant for only one person in particular.  
   
John smiled.  
   
He had honestly been expecting to open the front door and have an armful of Sherlock and get pushed to the ground and, well… just and.  
   
Tension slipping away, John followed the path of red petals careful not to stand on any of them. Reaching the top of the stairs, John looked ahead and saw that the petals and feathers lead to the ‘black room’. John stood in front of the door and swallowed loud. He was really about to do this. One of only a handful of Angels to ever experience carnal pleasures. He looked down at his feet, doubts creeping in. But the sight of his feathers mixed in with red rose petals steeled his nerves and he opened the door. It wasn’t about sex or sin. It was about showing his love for Sherlock physically and connecting with his charge’s soul on an intimate level.  
   
Sherlock seemed to always manage to surprise him, John observed.  
   
The LED stars were turned on, twinkling away on the roof and walls. John’s eyes settled on his favourite constellation before taking in the rest of the room. A very good portion of the floor was now littered with little candles. Some of the candles were in glass jars, the indents of the glass casting flickering lines over the walls and ceiling. Petals and feathers covered the rest of the floor where the candles were not. And a new addition to the room was a long, low black table, nothing but three candles sitting on each of the two corners closest to the wall. The usual mountain of downy feathers that had previously covered the very comfortable and expensive mattress was now a mere sprinkling on top of the black silk sheets. Mixed in with the feathers were the red rose petals again. The flickering candles cast the dark room in a warm glow and John finally allowed his eyes to settle on Sherlock.  
   
The man was wearing what appeared to be nothing but a black silk robe, the dark material making Sherlock’s skin look ethereal. He was smiling up at John with a look that spoke of nothing but adoring love and devotion. “Close the door, John.” John did as he was told, closing the door and smiling at the love of his life.  
   
“Love what you’ve done with the place.” He gestured with the hand that wasn’t holding the bag full of condoms and lube at the room, smile still firmly in place.  
   
“I wanted it to be… special.” Sherlock stood from the bed and worked his way around the candles to stand in front of John. “I read online that for the most romantic of situations rose petals and candles set the perfect mood. But I wanted to be a bit more unique so added your feathers to the petals and set everything up in here.” Sherlock nervously raised both palms upwards to motion to the stars covering the room.  
   
“It’s perfect.” John rose to the balls of his feet and gave Sherlock a light and affectionate kiss.  
   
“You like it?” It was odd to hear uncertainty in Sherlock Holmes’ voice.  
   
“I love it.” John took one of Sherlock's hands in his and rustled the plastic bag. “I got everything.”  
   
“Including the tea, cheese and coffee?”  
   
John blinked. “Shit!”  
   
Sherlock just laughed lightly. “It’s alright. We didn’t need any of that; I just needed a not so subtle way to get you to buy lubricant and condoms.”  
   
“Well I got plenty of both, so no worries there.”  
   
Sherlock took the plastic bag from John to unpack the contents onto the table. “Five boxes, John, really? How much sex are you planning on having?”  
   
“I had no idea about what kind of condoms we’d need so covered a broad spectrum, ok?” John said defensively, arms crossing his chest.  
   
Sherlock just chuckled. “Seeing as it’s our first time we will use the silicon lubricant and regular condoms.” Sherlock chucked his selection onto the bed. Turning around, he stalked over to John, hands coming up to slide under his Angel’s coat. “You are wearing far too many layers.”  
   
John went to remedy that problem but was stopped by pale fingers clutching firmly at his wrists. John understood the silent declaration and let his arms fall to his sides and Sherlock went about undressing him.  
   
His coat was removed first, neatly folded before being placed on the low table. Sherlock let his fingertips take in the soft texture of John’s jumper before pulling that up and off too, folding and placing it on top of the coat. Pale fingers quickly moved to the black leather, undoing the buckles as John thrust his wings outwards to activate the quick release. Sherlock pulled the leather off of John’s shoulders, placing the harness beside the other clothes on the table. When he turned back around John already had his undershirt off and was passing it to Sherlock having folded it for him. Those glorious wings extended near fully, stretching out the muscles and points from being tucked away and bent all day. Sherlock ran his fingertips across the soft feathers and pulled the tip of John’s left wing forward so he could place a kiss against the feathers.  
   
John reached a hand out to tangle itself in dark locks, threading through the curls. He used his wings to pull Sherlock closer, until his charge was pressed flush against his body. John placed a kiss of the flesh that was directly in front of him, peppering Sherlock’s collarbones.  
   
Sherlock made a desperate groan deep in his throat that was nothing but baritone. He manoeuvred John until he had his Angel lying down on the bed. John instantly took one of his hands and kissed each of his knuckles before turning the wrist delicately to press his lips against his palm.  
   
Taking in the sight before him shattered any hope Sherlock had of breathing for the moment. John was on his back, golden skin near glowing in the candle light. The purity of his wings stood out stark against the black silk sheets, the deep hues of red from the rose petals making the white sensual in a way that should not be known to man. Sherlock his hands down John’s front, settling on the man’s belt buckle. When his Angel lifted his hips ever so slightly, Sherlock smiled and undid the buckle, pulling the thick leather through the loops.  
   
Wings stretched upwards and pulled Sherlock flush with John’s body. A slow kiss was initiated but it didn’t take long for it to turn heated.  
   
Tongues warred, teeth nipped and lips sucked until both Angel and charge were left breathless and panting for more. Reaching between their bodies, Sherlock made quick work of undoing the button and fly of John’s trousers. John bent his hips to pull the offending garment off and handed it to Sherlock who quickly leant back to place it on the table behind him. John took this moment to sit up, his wings bending behind him so he could support his weight and reach forward, his mouth moving to suck and nip at Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock secured his hands of John’s shoulders to steady himself, no expecting the sudden attack.  
   
John wasn’t really sure what he was doing entirely, but certain areas of Sherlock’s chest made his charge emit small moans and quickened breaths when he sucked over them. He pulled the silk robe Sherlock was wearing looser on the man’s thin shoulders, exposing more of his chest for John’s perusal. His nose accidently brushed against one of Sherlock’s nipple and he didn’t miss the way Sherlock’s hands tightened on his shoulders and his breath faltered entirely. Smirking a bit at his finding, John licked over the small nub, thoroughly intrigued by the way it perked up and Sherlock all but keened at the slick movement.  
   
Acting a bit bolder, John flicked his tongue over the nub again before sucking the little spot of colour firmly.  
   
“Ah, John…” Sherlock moaned, fingers moving to fist in John’s short flaxen spikes.  
   
John continued sucking, adding just the barest hint of teeth and smirking into Sherlock’s chest when the man bucked un-expectantly.  
   
The next thing John knew was he was on his back, Sherlock looming over him.  
   
“Fix your wings.” Sherlock all but ordered, noticing the awkward way they were bent under John’s body. His angel complied, rolling slightly left to pull the right one free, then slightly right to free the left wing. Sherlock lowered his body onto John’s making sure their hips connected in a calculated grind.  
   
“Gh~” John chocked on his breath at the sudden burst of something from his groin, bucking up in reaction. Sherlock moaned and rolled his hips back down into his Angel’s. Wings came thrusting up from their idle position against the bed to somewhere between Guardian and charge.  
   
“Interesting.” Sherlock hummed, beginning a steady rock down into John’s crotch, making sure their covered erections pressed against each other. His eyes flicked between John’s scrunched up face and the twitching wings between them. Sherlock had the upper hand here; he had masturbated plenty of times in the past when John had riled him up enough. But his Angel… John had never once touched himself for fear of sin. So every little burst of pleasure that Sherlock found enjoyable must have really been a shock to the system for John. Pale fingers came down to cup his Guardian’s face, waiting until John opened his eyes and looked up at him. “Are you alright?” His hips never ceased moving, those same careful slow thrusts downwards making his Angel quiver beneath him.  
   
“It’s too… just so, new… not used to it.” John managed out, his gaze lingering on how beautiful Sherlock looked in candlelight.  
   
“Does it feel good?” Sherlock thrust down a bit harder and was rewards with the brush of feathers against his shoulders as John’s wings jerked forward.  
   
“I… I don’t know. I think so?”  
   
Sherlock frowned at that.  
   
Time to strip.  
   
The tie holding the loose robe to his frame was yanked undone, Sherlock quickly pulling the silk off and placing it on the table behind him. John’s pants were pulled efficiently down his short legs and tossed onto the pile of clothes behind him. He climbed back over John and wasted no time in pressing their bare cocks together. Sherlock sighed happily as John stuttered on his breath. Then Sherlock groaned as his Angel’s wings wrapped around his back to pull him in for a kiss.  
   
Pulling back from air, John smiled up at him. “That feels so much better.” His fingers skirted up Sherlock's slightly protruding ribs before mapping their way back to cup against Sherlock’s ass, pulling the younger man down into his hips as John pushed up.  
   
Sherlock rested his weight on his forearms either side of John’s head, panting into the neck before him. “Hold up.” Sherlock reached out clumsily for the lube and John helped him to sit up. Flipping the cap and squirting a decent amount into his palm, Sherlock gripped both of their members in his hand and slicked them up together.  
   
John’s head tilted dangerously back as he moaned wantonly, his wings forcing their hips to press even more closely together. Sherlock’s hand got caught between their hips, unable to move between their tightly pressed flesh. Placing his free left hand on John’s chest he pushed against the insistent wings until he had room to move his right hand again.  
   
It didn’t last long. Sherlock wasn’t really expecting it to. The sensation of having his slick hand wrapped around not only his length, but John’s too was enough stimulus on its own. Add a moaning and writhing Angel beneath him to the mix and it wasn’t long before they were both gasping in their completions. John reached his orgasm first, bucking up into Sherlock’s fist as thick, hot seed spilled between them. His wings careened forcefully back against the bed, twitching flatly as John experienced his first orgasm. He groaned something that sounded vaguely like ‘Sherlock’, his eyes screwed shut so tight that Sherlock wouldn’t be surprised if his Angel would be seeing spots for a few minutes once he opened them. With this delightfully pornographic image spread out before him, Sherlock groaned out his orgasm through clenched teeth, “John…”  
   
Panting, Sherlock collapsed down to the side of John, landing carefully on a wing that instantly curled around him. He nuzzled into the feathers and wiped his sticky hand on the black silk sheets where there were no feathers or petals. They were both going to need shower now. John especially with his spunk covered stomach.  
   
“Sex is amazing.” John sighed happily, the wing around Sherlock tightening affectionately.  
   
Sherlock scoffed. “That wasn’t technically sex, John. More… mutual masturbation.”  
   
“Well I’m counting it as sex.” John’s right hand came to rest on his stomach before pulling it up in distaste. “I need a shower.” He looked over at Sherlock then corrected his statement. “We need a shower.”  
   
“Together?” Sherlock tried.  
   
“As long as you don’t complain about my wings hogging all the room.”  
   
“Me? Complain? Never.”  
   
John laughed at that. He was one very lucky Angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this please KUDOS if you really liked this then please COMMENT!!!
> 
> I drew a quick scene from the end of the first chapter which can be found here: http://www.tumblr.com/blog/glow-dark-art

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Naaaaw~ Aren't they just the cutest things ever!!!
> 
> And yes, I suck balls at writing dialogue from the view of a child, I know that. But I think I can get away with how Sherlock speaks because he's Sherlock. And John is a timeless Angel, so if he want's to speak like an adult in a childs body/a child in an adults body, then so be it. 
> 
> There will be a big time skip in the next chapter, like, I'll either wirte them into university or just start with them moving into Baker Street. There will be smut in the next chapter though, that I can promise, lol.
> 
> If you enjoyed this then please KUDOS, and if you really enjoyed it then please COMMENT!! I'd love to hear what you thought about this C:
> 
> And I drew the ending scene!!! It's over on my tumblr, here: http://glow-dark-art.tumblr.com/image/51716919906


End file.
